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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027445">Sew My Heart Back Together</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrizzlyBear1710/pseuds/GrizzlyBear1710'>GrizzlyBear1710</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The 100 (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>7DaysofClexa, Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Best Friends, Clextober20, Day 3: Sweater Weather, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Knitting, Muggles, Sweater weather, Witches, day3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:06:43</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,884</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27027445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrizzlyBear1710/pseuds/GrizzlyBear1710</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>She took a breath before continuing, “I’m never going to get another jumper.” At the last word, she crumbled, but Lexa was there to catch her. She collapsed into her chest, each sob wracking her body and making her shake. Lexa’s fingers tangled into her blonde hair, stroking and soothing her as she cried. Lexa knew that her words would make very little difference. Nothing she said could bring Clarke’s grandmother back. Nothing she said could help Clarke with her grieving. All she could do was be there for her. But Clarke’s words stuck in her head. What made the blonde close to her grandmother were those jumpers she knitted every year without fail. If she didn’t receive one in the next week or so, it would just add to her grief. Lexa wracked her brain for what to do. She was a Ravenclaw. Surely, she could think of some solution. Then, it hit her. She made a mental note as she held Clarke impossibly close. It was time she learned how to knit. </p><p>or</p><p>The Hogwarts au where Clarke loses her grandmother and Lexa spends hours and hours trying to make her feel better with some wool and knitting needles.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clarke Griffin &amp; Lexa, Clarke Griffin/Lexa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>141</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sew My Heart Back Together</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So, I haven't had time to edit this so if there are any mistakes, I apologise. I've only just written it today! Thank you to everyone for your inspiration! This fic has actually turned out sadder than I was anticipating, so I must warn you that there is a character death of Clarke's grandmother (OC), so some parts might be upsetting to some people. A lot of mention of grief and comfort. Parts in Italics are flashbacks</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As soon as Abby had turned up at Hogwarts in their seventh year, Clarke already knew what she was there to say. Nevertheless, when her mum broke the news that her beloved grandmother had passed away, it sent a pain directly to her chest and she broke down there and then, right in the middle of Headmaster Jaha’s office. She was so distraught that she didn’t care. The next thing she felt were arms wrapping around her shoulders, but it was odd for her. She almost couldn’t feel the hug, like she was hovering above her own body as her mum enveloped her. Shivers wracked her body as she felt tears run down her face messily. Her grandmother had been ill for a good few months, quickly deteriorating in the care home she was living in. Clarke had made sure that she said goodbye to her before starting her final year at Hogwarts. Still, it came as a shock to hear that the family member she was closest to had died. Once she’d practically fallen out of her mum’s arms, there was only one person Clarke wanted to see who she knew could comfort her: Lexa.</p><p>            It came as no surprise that the brunette was waiting for her at the entrance to the office. She was shifting her feet awkwardly as she waited for Clarke to return. Lexa could guess what she was there for, having known all about her grandmother’s deterioration. They were best friends, after all, and Clarke’s family had pretty much become Lexa’s. As soon as Lexa heard the staircase moving, she snapped her head up from the floor, immediately meeting those blue eyes that were uncharacteristically watery and sad.</p><p>            “Clarke—” was all Lexa managed before the blonde was crashing into her. Lexa wasn’t ever hugged this tightly very often. In fact, every time she experienced a hug like this, it was because of Clarke. The blonde had wrapped her arms around Lexa’s shoulders as Lexa held her tightly around the waist. Her face was practically buried into Lexa’s neck and she could feel that skin moistening with tears. She pulled her impossibly close. Lexa dropped her voice to a soft whisper, “Hey, I’ve got you, Clarke. I’ve got you.” She traced circles on her best friend’s back comfortingly, but her tears just got heavier. From behind them, someone cleared their throat. Clarke was the first to pull away, covering her face behind Lexa in case it was someone she really didn’t want to see. When it was her mum stood beside Jaha, she relaxed a little, using the sleeve of her jumper to dab at her eyes.</p><p>            Abby’s eyes were red and puffy. It was understandable. She’d just lost the only living relative of her late husband. It broke Lexa’s heart to see them both hurting. Over the years of knowing Clarke, Lexa had gotten extremely close to Abby, seeing her as the mum she never had. As Abby laid eyes on the pair of friends, she felt her lower lip tremble again, threatening another round of tears. She was so glad that her daughter had found someone so caring and lovely to take of her when she was away. Lexa was like her second daughter. Abby crossed the space between them, and Lexa just knew what to do. She opened her arms and Abby let herself be hugged. It took less than a few seconds before the hug was extended to Clarke. Lexa assumed the role of the strong one, holding the other two up as they cried into her.</p><p>            As Abby pulled back, she apologised to Lexa. The Ravenclaw student just shook her head, a sympathetic smile on her face over the top of Clarke’s head. The blonde refused to let go, even as her mum departed the castle with Jaha walking her out. All she wanted was for Lexa to take the pain away, to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. They stood in the embrace much longer than the average hug.</p><p>            Pressing a kiss to Clarke’s forehead, Lexa said, “Come on, it’s getting late. Let’s head to your dorm.” She felt Clarke nod against her chest, but she made no move to go anywhere. Lexa just began shuffling along, keeping Clarke close to her body as they walked towards Gryffindor.</p><p>            For the whole walk, Clarke kept her face hidden in the crook of Lexa’s neck, not wanting anyone to see her crying, and Lexa did an amazing job of shrouding her from onlookers. Clarke also appreciated the warmth radiating from Lexa’s hand as it clasped hers, her thumb tracing over the back of Clarke’s hand every so often. In hardly any time at all, they made it to Clarke’s room. Since she was made Head Girl, she had a room to herself, which had its benefits, but it also meant she got lonely a lot. Thankfully, Clarke and Lexa had an arrangement to spend every Friday and Saturday night having a sleepover in her room, sometimes accompanied by Octavia or Raven if they weren’t spending their weekends with either Lincoln or Anya – their respective partners.</p><p>            Lexa clicked the door shut, locking them away from the outside world in their own little bubble. Still, Clarke wasn’t letting go of her. So, Lexa took control, walking the blonde over to her double bed and sitting her down. She turned to grab some pyjamas or comfy clothes for Clarke when she refused to let go of her hand.</p><p>            “Lexa, no. Please stay with me,” said Clarke in the saddest voice Lexa had ever heard. Her heart ached. She hated seeing Clarke this hurt, especially when it was something she couldn’t fix.</p><p>            “I’m not going anywhere,” Lexa began, stroking Clarke’s hair softly. With teary eyes, Clarke looked up. Lexa wanted nothing more than to take away all her pain. She dropped her hand to Clarke’s cheek as she added, “I’m just going to get you something to change into.” Clarke gave her a hesitant nod. As Lexa turned to head to the wardrobe, Clarke was hit with an idea.</p><p>            “Wait, can you get me the light blue jumper?” she asked. Lexa opened the wardrobe, immediately feeling like the air had been sucked out of her when she spotted Clarke’s array of jumpers, all handknitted. Lexa’s drawers back in her dorm looked somewhat similar. They were filled with exactly six jumpers for each year Clarke’s grandmother had knitted her one. It was like clockwork. At the start of October, two jumpers would come in the post – one for Clarke and one for Lexa. Ever since the Griffin family found out that Lexa didn’t have a family and was living in care, they took her under their wing. It still made her emotional to this day. So, seeing all those jumpers in Clarke’s wardrobe, knowing that there wouldn’t be a seventh for her or an eighteenth for her best friend, Lexa had to swallow down the lump in her throat. She had to be strong for Clarke. After all, it was the blonde who’d lost a family member.</p><p>            Gently, she plucked the jumper off the coat hanger, folding it in her arms as she carried it across to Clarke. She knew that if the Gryffindor spotted the sight of the other jumpers, she wouldn’t be able to just suppress her emotions the way Lexa could. Lexa knew Clarke wasn’t ready for that realisation yet. However, once Clarke had pulled the jumper over her head, it only took a few seconds before she was biting the inside of her cheek, willing herself not to cry again. She had no idea where all these tears were coming from, sure that she’d run out of them soon. Lexa noticed and pulled Clarke into her. They lay on the bed, Clarke’s arms wrapped around Lexa’s midsection with her head nestled into her chest while Lexa stroked her arms comfortingly. The sobs hadn’t hit yet, but they were due.</p><p>            “Lexa…” Clarke began unsurely. Green eyes faced downwards to meet blue. Clarke could read Lexa like a book now. Seven years of friendship did that to a person. She could see all the hurt that she was trying so hard to mask then she could comfort Clarke. It made her feel special, loved. She took a breath before continuing, “I’m never going to get another jumper.” At the last word, she crumbled, but Lexa was there to catch her. She collapsed into her chest, each sob wracking her body and making her shake. Lexa’s fingers tangled into her blonde hair, stroking and soothing her as she cried. Lexa knew that her words would make very little difference. Nothing she said could bring Clarke’s grandmother back. Nothing she said could help Clarke with her grieving. All she could do was be there for her. But Clarke’s words stuck in her head. What made the blonde close to her grandmother were those jumpers she knitted every year without fail. If she didn’t receive one in the next week or so, it would just add to her grief. Lexa wracked her brain for what to do. She was a Ravenclaw. Surely, she could think of some solution. Then, it hit her. She made a mental note as she held Clarke impossibly close. It was time she learned how to knit.</p><p>            They remained like that the rest of the night. Clarke only moved when necessary, but each time, she snuggled back into her best friend’s arms, crying until sleep overcame them both. Thankfully, she slept well, but when she woke up in the morning, she had a memory lapse. All she knew was that the woman beside her was sleeping soundly, her arms still wrapped around her tightly and head propped up against the pillow. Clarke smiled to herself. Lexa was awfully cute when she slept. She felt butterflies pool in her stomach at the sight of the sleeping brunette beside her. Clarke had finally come to terms with her growing feelings for Lexa, acknowledging that she certainly saw her as more than a friend now. At first, she’d denied them, claiming that as a useless bisexual, she couldn’t separate friendly and romantic feelings. But now, she was certain. She loved Lexa.</p><p>            It took her a few seconds to remember the news she received yesterday. It started when she began wondering why Lexa’s head was propped up against the headboard like she’d fallen asleep ensuring that Clarke was comfortable on her chest. Then realisation hit her. Her grandmother. It felt like the world was pulled from under her feet once again. She’d never see her bright blue eyes twinkling with mischief, even when she was struggling with Alzheimer’s at the very end. She’d never hear her melodic laugh at some of the antics Clarke and Lexa would talk about. She’d never feel her excitement brim when her owl, Finn, carried in two big packages on the 1<sup>st</sup> of October. ‘Just in time for the nippy weather,’ she’d say with a wink. Clarke felt the tears willing to fall again, but she held them in. They needed to go down for breakfast soon. She could grieve after.</p><p>            Clarke was offered a few days off schoolwork, which she gratefully declined. If she was merely stuck in her room alone, it would just amount in her doing nothing but sobbing for hours on end, only interrupted by mealtimes. So, she dragged herself to classes, mindlessly going through the motions. If ever she felt a little wobbly, Lexa could always tell. Lexa always knew. The brunette would reach down and intertwine their fingers, giving her hand a little squeeze. It helped to ground her when she felt close to shattering. Lexa always ensured that she stayed by Clarke’s side. During mealtimes, the brunette skipped sitting with the Ravenclaw table, taking her place beside Clarke. She spent every waking minute with her, holding her as she cried, or taking her on a walk around the castle grounds to clear her head. Sometimes, she’d stay the night, whispering Muggle fairy tales Clarke had never heard of while she drifted off to sleep. Every night she stayed over, Clarke could always feel the soft, barely-there kiss Lexa placed on the top of her head before she also fell asleep. It was becoming too natural, too routine, too easy. Clarke began not being able to sleep without Lexa’s strong arms around her. But the brunette claimed she had a project she was working on. A project that required her visiting Professor Gustus’ hut in the evenings. Lexa hadn’t told Clarke that part. Clarke had just watched from the top of Gryffindor Tower as Lexa practically ran in hopes that she wasn’t caught by the other prefects. At first, Clarke was perplexed, but then she figured if it was anything serious, Lexa would’ve told her. After all, they had no secrets. Well, except that Clarke was in love with her, but she figured she could keep that one to herself for now. She stood at one of the windows overlooking Professor Gustus’ hut and the Forbidden Forest. As expected, her best friend bundled out of the castle exactly on time, carrying a full bag towards the hut.</p><p>            Lexa had come across one problem as she planned to knit Clarke a jumper. She couldn’t knit. However, she did know someone in the castle who could try to teach her. She’d do anything for the girl who offered her a family when she didn’t have one…</p><p>            <em>Clarke had invited Lexa to spend Christmas with them during first year rather than going back to the foster home. Lexa had jumped at the chance to finally have a proper Christmas with a proper family. Abby was delighted to host the girl too, knowing how important this student had become to her daughter. They’d even met on Platform nine and three-quarters on the very first day. Lexa had turned up on her own with a large suitcase and…nothing else. She was meandering around the ninth platform on her own, looking unsure and a little panicky. Clarke, the girl who’d always looked out for others, ran over to the timid, tiny brunette and asked if she was okay. That was where their friendship had begun. Abby coached them through running through the wall and she learned that Lexa was a kind child. She was awfully quiet and unsure of herself, but she helped Clarke with her bags onto the Hogwarts Express, and even offered her some Muggle snacks despite only having a few herself. Her daughter’s new friend came up in nearly every letter Clarke sent to her mum, and even came up in the letters sent to her grandmother. That was why Lexa had received her own jumper in their first year. </em></p><p>
  <em>            When Clarke had approached her with a huge beam and twinkle in her eyes carrying a navy-blue knitted jumper with the words ‘Proud Ravenclaw’ on, Lexa was astounded. She’d never received a present that wasn’t either for her birthday or Christmas and she’d especially not received a homemade present before. She remembered feeling emotional with Clarke sat across from her at the Ravenclaw table. She didn’t understand why she was being gifted this present when Clarke’s grandmother had never met her before. That was why she was hesitant accepting it. Turning it over in her hands, she revelled in the softness of the thread that was used, completely besotted by the care that had been put into making it. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            Her surprise must’ve come across as dislike as Clarke asked nervously, “Do you not like it? If you don’t, it’s fine. She won’t be mad if you never wear it.” Lexa snapped her eyes up to meet Clarke’s, wide like saucers. She hadn’t heard anything as ridiculous as what Clarke was suggesting. Vehemently, she shook her head, clinging tighter to the jumper in case Clarke wanted to take it back. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            “No, no, no. I…I…I think it’s great…” Lexa tripped over her own words, completely overwhelmed by the emotion she was feeling. Clarke didn’t look as relieved as Lexa was hoping she would be. If anything, she looked a little confused. Lexa took a deep breath, trying to quell her emotions back. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, cry at the breakfast table in front of the whole school. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she added, “No, I’m sorry, Clarke. I love it. It’s just that I’ve never received anything like this before. I…um…don’t know what to say.” She gulped again, feeling her throat go dry as the tears threatened to break from her eyes. Clarke flashed her a bright, toothy smile. Then, she handed her a piece of parchment and a quill. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>            “You could start with thank you. My granny has been dying to hear from you! The famous Lexa, she calls you,” said Clarke, giggling to herself. Lexa felt the urge to cry subside, replaced with a small smile on her face. She accepted the parchment and began writing a letter, profusely thanking the woman who’d gifted Lexa her first homemade jumper. She’d never throw it away. </em>
</p><p>Currently, Lexa was sat in Professor Gustus’ hut with her knitting needles in front of her. He was turned towards the kettle, waiting for it to boil as Lexa added some wood to the fire. She was sat on the large armchair in her navy jumper, looking out of the window as the daylight gradually darkened. When she’d first received the jumper, it had been miles too big. Clarke’s fit her perfectly, but because her grandmother had never met Lexa before, she had to just guess her size. It was always better to have something oversized than have it not fit. Now, whenever Lexa wore it, the sleeves reached down to her wrists rather than a few inches past her hands, and it was baggy enough to be cosy. It was her favourite jumper.</p><p>            “So, I have to ask…” Gustus began, turning back to Lexa as he placed the two cups of tea down on the coffee table. He took his seat on the large sofa across from Lexa, bringing out his wool from the basket. “Why don’t you just use magic to knit Clarke a jumper?”</p><p>            Lexa didn’t even have to think about that question, “Because Clarke’s grandmother was one of the best Witches to have come to Hogwarts and she never used magic. It’s all about the time, effort and care you put into making something for someone.” Gustus considered this, his eyebrows raised as he was clearly impressed with his student’s passion.</p><p>            “But Clarke would never know,” he offered.</p><p>            “Doesn’t matter. I would. Besides, I’m pretty sure Granny Griffin would know from Heaven,” said Lexa, the ghost of a smile on her face. She was sad. She adored Clarke’s grandmother, but she had to be there for the blonde. It didn’t really give her much time to grieve except when she was alone in her bed, hiding her tears in her pillow. Professor Gustus had a heightened sensitivity to other people’s emotions, immediately recognising that the student across from him was upset. He offered her a sympathetic smile.</p><p>            “And she’ll be glad you’re carrying on her tradition,” he said softly. All Lexa could manage was to return his smile. If she opened her mouth, she knew for a fact that she’d end up crying, wailing at how much she missed Granny Griffin and how it wasn’t fair. Instead, she turned her attention to the steaming cup of tea. She took a sip, swallowing down the hot liquid along with the lump in her throat. She took another sip. Once she felt in control of her emotions once again, she placed the cup back on the coaster.</p><p>            “Thanks again, for teaching me how to knit,” said Lexa. This time, Gustus’ smile transformed into a wide one.</p><p>            “Ah, no need to thank me. I love teaching the young ones how to knit!” he replied. Gustus picked up his cup that looked dainty in his huge hands and downed the whole drink. “Right, shall we get to it?” With an enthusiastic nod, Lexa picked up her knitting needles.</p><p>            By the time Lexa returned to her dorm, all her roommates were asleep. Her bed was next to Raven’s and she could hear the girl lightly snoring. Lexa pulled the curtains around her four-poster bed and pulled open her drawers. She needed something warmer to wear as pyjamas. As she did, her eyes landed on one of the other jumpers she had…</p><p>            <em>It was their second year at Hogwarts and classes had just started. Lexa had finally plucked up the courage to join Clarke and their other friend Octavia at the Gryffindor table. It was the first of October and Scotland was much colder now. In fact, Lexa was just thinking it was about time she transitioned her Summer wardrobe into Autumn when about a hundred owls flew through the Great Hall. Lexa spotted Clarke’s brown owl immediately as he carried the biggest package of all, dropping it down directly in front of them both. Clarke let out an excited squeal, tearing off the paper hastily. Inside was a bright blue jumper, mirroring the colour of Clarke’s eyes. It was plain, but Lexa knew straight away that it would look fantastic on Clarke. </em></p><p>
  <em>She picked it up, holding it against herself as she asked, “What do you guys think?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“It’s really cute!” said Octavia excitedly. Lexa nodded along, smiling. Clarke dropped the jumper onto her lap, smiling as she looked through the package once more. When she pulled out a second jumper, Lexa was surprised her grandmother had sent her more than one. She didn’t for a second assume that the beautiful dark green one would be for her. So, when Clarke held it against Lexa and repeated the same question to Octavia, Lexa felt that indescribable emotion pool in her stomach. She’d received another homemade gift from someone who cared about her. She blinked back tears. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ooh, it matches your eyes perfectly!” Octavia gushed, and Lexa smiled sheepishly. If Clarke noticed the reddening in her cheeks, she didn’t say anything. That day when she pulled on the dark green jumper that was still a little bit too big, she really felt part of a family. </em>
</p><p>As she tugged on the same green jumper that had only faded slightly in the last few years, she let a tear drop. Clarke’s grandmother had given her so much, and there was only one, simple thing she’d asked for in return. All she wanted was for Lexa to look out for Clarke. That was it, and that was easy. Lexa would do it anyway. That’s what she’d told Granny Griffin all those years back. The elderly woman had tapped her on the shoulder with a knowing smile, saying ‘I know you will.’ Lexa felt her stomach clench at the memory. Clarke’s grandmother (along with her whole family) had done nothing but made her feel welcome. That night, Lexa didn’t fall asleep. She cried herself into exhaustion.</p><p>The next day was a Wednesday, only four days until the first of October, and Lexa was tired. If it wasn’t for Raven shaking her awake at quarter past eight, Lexa wouldn’t have just missed breakfast, but classes too. She felt sensitive. She wanted nothing more than to escape back to bed wearing her jumper and go back to sleep. Instead, she dragged herself to her set of drawers, already feeling the chill in the air as September creeped away from them. She picked up her third jumper from Clarke’s grandmother. It was black with a pumpkin on it. This was one of Lexa’s favourites. It was perfectly appropriate for Halloween and the pumpkin was downright adorable. Unfortunately, Clarke’s grandmother had knitted it exactly the right size for her, so when it fit in Lexa’s third year at Hogwarts, now she was in her seventh, it was far too small. Still, like everything she’d received from the Griffin family, it was never going to be discarded. It had too much sentimental value. Instead, Lexa threw on the fourth jumper underneath her school uniform. Thankfully, she had a growth spurt when she was fourteen, and – anticipating the next growth spurt – Granny Griffin had upsized the next jumper she made for Lexa. Now, this one fit perfectly…</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, so I see you liked your sweater,” Granny Griffin commented as Clarke and Lexa walked through the door into her living room. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>Grinning, Lexa said, “I like all the jumpers you knit for me.” The woman in the chair tutted, shaking her head disapprovingly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Clarke dear, remind me what I say to your friend every year about this whole ‘jumper’ business,” said Granny Griffin. Clarke bit back a smile as she turned to the brunette. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“If it’s knitted, it’s called a sweater. None of this jumper nonsense!” said Clarke, imitating her grandmother’s voice perfectly. Sheepishly, Lexa smiled, taking a seat beside Clarke on the old sofa. She loved being in Clarke’s grandmother’s house where she could sit, drink tea, eat a few biscuits, and listen to hers and Clarke’s conversations. Occasionally, Lexa would interject with something witty or correct Clarke if she was ‘telling the story wrong,’ but Lexa was the sort of person who loved to just listen, and she certainly adored just listening to Clarke talk. The Gryffindor had a way with words, possibly able to talk her way out of anything. Not only that, but she was expressive, waving her hands around as she talked like she was putting on a show for all who listened. Lexa was in love with her. It was obvious. She was sure that everyone knew (including Granny Griffin), but Clarke. That girl just seemed so oblivious. Still, Lexa wasn’t ready to potentially rupture her friendship with Clarke just yet. Obviously, when she’d come out as gay, Clarke had been more than accepting, hugging her and telling her how proud she was. Lexa remembered that had been the first – and only – time she’d cried in front of Clarke. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>While Clarke and her grandmother were talking about Clarke’s favourite professor, Professor Kane, Lexa found herself engaging in the habit that she did when she was listening intently: Pulling at her sleeves. The cuffs of the sleeves were bright yellow, leading to a dark grey sleeve and body of the sweater. Then, the bit around her collar was also yellow. Lexa had never worn yellow before, but as soon as she’d put it on, Clarke had gushed about how nicely the contrast was with her hair. Fashion wasn’t Lexa’s forte, but seeing the way Clarke’s face lit up encouraged her to start buying more yellow clothing. She had three yellow or mustard jumpers and a mustard winter hat. She was yet to show that Clarke. </em>
</p><p>So, whenever someone asked what her favourite colour was, she automatically said yellow. Wearing the jumper from Lexa’s fourth year gave her some level of comfort. It made her feel closer to the woman who’d meant so much to her. It was like she could smell the scent that lived in Granny Griffin’s house. There were always fresh flowers there, mixed with the scent of tea, and that perfume every old lady seemed to wear. She resisted the urge to snuggle into the soft material of her sweater. She had breakfast to go.</p><p>That evening was spent with Clarke. They were meeting outside the Great Hall to do some flying. Flying and Quidditch were things Lexa still struggled with, coming from an all-Muggle family and foster home, but Clarke alongside Octavia and Raven had taught her all they knew about the art of flying. Lexa was slowly getting there, but she was still nowhere near as good as her other friends. On the other hand, Clarke was brilliant. Her dad had taught her how to fly up until she turned ten – when he’d passed away in a car accident. To this day, Clarke still found solace in the air, feeling closer to him when the wind was flowing through her hair. Flying always helped clear her mind.</p><p>The first thing Lexa noticed about Clarke as she descended the staircase was the sweater she was wearing. Immediately, Lexa smiled. It was the one she’d received in fifth year, when Clarke had just turned sixteen, but Lexa was still fifteen. It was bright, pink at the top, shifting into purple in the middle, and blue at the bottom. The bi pride colours. Lexa remembered the nervousness of her blonde best friend as they sat in Ravenclaw common room doing homework. It came out of nowhere. All of a sudden, Clarke was sat in front of Lexa, a terrified expression on her face as she struggled to get out the words that she was bi. The first thing Lexa did was let out a sigh of relief. She was worried Clarke had done something stupid or she was in trouble. Clarke being bisexual was something Lexa had actually been pleased about. It meant one of her friends finally, truly understood what it was like to not be straight. She didn’t let herself think about the possibility of them both as more than friends. She didn’t want to get her hopes up. Instead, Lexa wrapped her arms around the Gryffindor, telling her how she was so pleased that she could confide in her and that she was happy Clarke was being her authentic self. Clarke had cried a lot that night.</p><p>But it eventually gave her the confidence to come out to her mum and grandmother. Lexa was there at the time, holding Clarke’s hand as she told them face-to-face about her sexuality. Granny Griffin had smiled warmly, taking Clarke’s face in her hands as she expressed how much she still loved her. Abby was next, giving Clarke the biggest hug ever. It had prompted Lexa to also tell them that she was gay. She was nearly, <em>nearly</em> brought to tears when the two women offered her the same treatment of Clarke. A few months later, Clarke received a bisexual pride knitted sweater and Lexa got a bright, rainbow-coloured one. They’d worn them to their first ever Muggle Pride festival.</p><p>“Thank you for agreeing to fly with me,” said Clarke as she reached the bottom of the staircase.</p><p>“Always,” Lexa replied. It was now commonplace (and frankly routine) for Clarke to fall into Lexa’s arms as they shared a hug every time they met. Neither girl was complaining.</p><p>As they began flying around the Quidditch pitch, playing a few games of tig, Clarke couldn’t help but laugh for the first time since she’d received the bad news. Perhaps flying had made her feel lighter. All she knew was that when she looked back at Lexa, the wind causing her dark hair to fall across her face and block her view, she let out a laugh that felt almost foreign to her. The Ravenclaw just always seemed to know what to do to cause that reaction from her. When they touched down on the grass, Clarke revelled in how stunning her best friend looked. Her hair, wild and messy from the wind, framed her face, making her lines and edges look softer. Her forest green eyes were alive and sparkling as the sun began setting over the treeline of the Forbidden Forest. Clarke was sure she’d never felt so in love before. She’d been battling a debate inside her head while they were flying. She felt like she couldn’t possibly contain how she felt about Lexa anymore, like it was threatening to burst at any minute. Every time the taller girl brushed her hand against hers, or pulled her into a bone-crushing hug, or gave her that lopsided, half-smile that seemed reserved especially for her, Clarke felt like melting into a huge, gay puddle. She had to tell her.</p><p>“Hey, Lex,” Clarke began. Lexa looked up at her, that lopsided, easy smile on her face, and Clarke felt like she was falling in love all over again. Telling someone you loved them was easy. It was just three words. Three really short words. But, telling your best friend you loved them while they looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to say something felt impossible. Clarke choked up, bobbing her mouth up and down.</p><p>“You okay?” asked Lexa, her voice laced with concern. Clarke nodded her head, licking her lips in hopes that it would make forming words easier. It didn’t. Still, Lexa was looking at her. She even tilted her head to the side in the way that makes her look like a confused puppy. Clarke couldn’t think straight anymore.</p><p>“Yeah, just, you know, thanks for coming flying with me. It, er, really helped,” she said. Lexa smiled, throwing an arm around the blonde’s shoulders.</p><p>“Anytime, Clarke,” she said. Clarke settled into her side, finding comfort in the brunette’s embrace. Maybe next time she’d admit her feelings.</p><p>Saturday nights were reserved for the best friends, but Lexa hadn’t finished the sweater. So, at just after the crack of dawn, Lexa grabbed all her knitting gear, bundling it into her bag, and made a break for Gustus’ hut. She knew he was an early riser, sometimes spotting him outside tending to the grounds at half past six in the mornings. When she reached his hut, she let out a sigh of relief when he answered the door, a look of surprise on his face.</p><p>“You’re here early,” he mused. Nevertheless, he swung the door open further, allowing her to step inside his home. The fire was roaring inside, making Lexa feel a lot warmer. As Gustus clicked the kettle on, Lexa shrugged off her coat and took her place on the big armchair. Surveying her with a quirked eyebrow, he said, “That’s a nice jumper.” Subconsciously, Lexa glanced down at herself. She hadn’t even checked what she was throwing on before scampering out of Ravenclaw Tower. Only now did she notice the dark purple sweater she’d pulled on in a haste, decorated with a single white stripe across the middle…</p><p>
  <em>She’d received it last year. That was when Clarke’s grandmother had first been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. She was still at home, with Abby acting as her carer for the most part. Her deterioration was fast and upsetting to watch. However, the one thing she’d retained was her ability to knit. Motor skills like that often took a long time to fade, but it was still a surprise when she picked up the knitting needles and got to it like she’d always done before. In fact, it shocked Clarke a little to the point where she was speechless, and Clarke was never speechless. Looking at her grandmother knitting again was like seeing her a few years back right in front of them, chatting away about nothing and everything. Of course, now, she was keeping quiet. After a short while, though, she looked up, eyes focusing on Lexa who’d been sat quietly. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What’s your favourite colour, Lexa?” she asked. Clarke raised her eyebrows. It also came as a surprise when she remembered people’s names. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Oh, um, yellow,” Lexa replied. Clarke’s grandmother gave her a slow nod. Then, she picked up the purple wool with a knowing smile. Lexa felt…odd. The way Clarke’s grandmother was looking at her made Lexa feel a little like she was being read, or at the very least, observed. It was like the elderly woman right in front of her was looking into her very soul and working out exactly what Lexa’s favourite colour was. Of course, Lexa’s favourite colour used to be purple, until Clarke had lit up at her in yellow. Lexa just gaped, confused at how the woman could seemingly just know that. But Clarke elbowed her with a little laugh, putting it down to the woman just forgetting what yellow was meant to look like. Lexa wasn’t so sure though. Maybe it was due to her Alzheimer’s. Or maybe Granny Griffin just knew more than what she was letting on. </em>
</p><p>“Where did you get your jumper?” Professor Gustus asked, dragging her back to the present.</p><p>Without thinking, she said, “It’s a sweater.” Once the words left her lips, both her and Gustus simultaneously raised their eyebrows. It was like the ghost of Granny Griffin had taken over her mouth for a second. After a beat, Lexa then said, “Sorry, I don’t know where that came from. Um, but this is the last sweater Clarke’s grandmother knitted me. I didn’t even realise I’d put this one on.” Gustus smiled warmly.</p><p>“She was a talented lady,” he said. He averted his eyes back down to his knitting, allowing Lexa a minute to blink back the tears she was hoping he didn’t see.</p><p>At the breakfast table the morning after, Clarke went down alone. Lexa had left about half an hour before to ‘grab something from her room’ whatever that meant. But Clarke knew what day today was and she wasn’t feeling like sitting in a room full of happy students while they ate their breakfast and waited for the post, knowing that this would be the first October she wouldn’t receive a sweater from her grandmother. She wanted to eat alone, or with Lexa, then head back to her room, away from the bustle of the Great Hall. When she walked in, she was glad that there were only a few students and professors there. As she took her seat, the head of Ravenclaw, Professor Gustus, offered her a soft smile. She returned it, knowing for a fact that it didn’t reach her eyes.</p><p>It took less than a few minutes before she felt the presence of someone beside her. When she turned around, she was met with the most sheepish looking Lexa she’d ever encountered. The woman was holding something behind her back and her eyes were wider than ever, like she was a deer caught in headlights. She shifted her weight from foot-to-foot awkwardly.</p><p>“Hey, Lexa, are you okay?” Clarke asked. She tried sneaking a glance at what Lexa had concealed. Instead of replying, Lexa pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and brought what looked like a bundle of wool in front of her. She slowly unfolded it, ensuring she was taking the utmost care until Clarke could tell what it was. It was a simple, orange sweater, a little bigger than what her grandmother knits her and a lot rougher round the edges. Nevertheless, it was a sweater.</p><p>“I know it’s nothing like what Granny Griffin makes, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you not receiving a sweater on the first of October,” Lexa rambled. With each word, Clarke felt her emotions grow. Tears were stinging her eyes and she couldn’t contain her feelings any longer. However, she found that she was at a loss for words, prompting Lexa to continue, “It’s okay if you don’t like it or if you think I’ve overstepped or something. It’s nowhere near as good as—”</p><p>“Lexa, no,” said Clarke. Her voice was barely audible, so quiet because she was so afraid it would crack as she spoke. It still rendered Lexa into silence. The brunette stood, her arms outstretched holding the sweater, waiting for what Clarke was going to say. “This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me,” Clarke managed before her lower lip trembled. In no time at all, tears were freely flowing from her eyes. She lunged forward, crashing into Lexa and holding onto her like she was clinging to her for dear life. Lexa’s arms reached up to circle Clarke’s waist, enveloping her into the hug. She could breathe now, knowing that Clarke was happy with her attempt at the sweater. As she hid her face in Lexa’s neck, she finally gained the courage to practically whisper, “I love this sweater. And I…I love you.”</p><p>Lexa felt like the world stopped spinning for just a minute. All the students and professors alike in the Great Hall melted into the background. All she could do was remember to breathe. Clarke loved her. Lexa let herself get excited that her best friend reciprocated her feelings and then reality crashed around her eyes. Of course, Clarke loved her. They were best friends, after all. That would be what she meant. So, Lexa pulled away, passing the sweater to Clarke.</p><p>“This way, I’ll always be with you,” she said with a smile on her face. As Clarke accepted the sweater, she stood with a perplexed expression on her face. All this time, she had branded herself the useless bisexual, but it was – in fact – Lexa who was the most useless lesbian of all.</p><p>“No, Lexa,” said Clarke. She reached up her hands to cradle the brunette’s face and smiled. Her confidence had been renewed to finally speak the truth. No more secrets. She took a deep breath before she said, “I love you, Lexa. I’m in love with you.” She watched as the Ravenclaw student blinked disbelievingly. Then, almost impossibly slowly, a smile appeared on her face as tears welled in her eyes. She let one or two fall. That was the second time Clarke had seen her cry.</p><p>“I love you, too,” said Lexa.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It was a sad one, but I liked writing it. Let me know what you think&lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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